Out With a Bang
by timelady1210
Summary: OC Mia kidnapped, coincidental rescue by Captain Hart and their... adventures. T for brief violence and language.
1. Captain John Hart

Walking along the road from her bus stop to home Mia lost herself in thought, random musings about how much time she'd need to finish her homework, if she could check her email, whether her friend would call. She crossed the street, walking past the front of a white van that wasn't familiar to the neighborhood and pondering with amusement what might happen if a gang of hoodlums were scheming inside. Five feet later, as she was about to turn the corner, the rush of car doors opening and fleeting footsteps met her ears, and before she could turn around a sack had been pulled over her head and she was being carried away, despite her squirming, fighting and cursing. With little to no concern she was tossed through the air to land heavily on a hard surface, and she figured it was the random white van from five feet ago. Hearing the doors slam shut again she renewed her swearing and thrashing, and after her foot connected with shin a good deal of times a man's voice gave a snarling demand and she felt a sharp blow to her head, immediately pulling her into unconsciousness.

* * *

The one and only word to come to mind and sum up how Mia felt was 'ow', followed by a choice few words for emphasis of how much 'ow' really was. Eventually overcoming the throbbing in her head that felt as if she were throwing herself against a brick wall she looked around to see that she was in a rather large and rather empty warehouse, except for, you know, her. After failing to find a trustworthy escape route she looked down at herself to see if she was injured besides her head, something that might have been blocked out by shock, but saw nothing open or bleeding in a Monty Python Black Knight style. What she did notice was that her shirt had conveniently been removed, revealing her kidnappers to be pig-dog hybrids, but found they had kindly left her pants on and in one piece. Tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling she berated herself for not sticking around after school for some ever-pointless class participation, but what had passed had passed. 

"Let's see, she awake yet?" called out a voice so cocky that Mia couldn't help but roll her eyes despite the hell she was inevitably about to go through. "Rise and shine, mornin' glory"

"It is morning, then?" she called back, twisting around as best she could without the ropes securing her to her chair cutting into her skin. "I shouldn'tve been out more than an hour or two, which would make it... five in the afternoon? You must have either failed math spectacularly or passed geography miraculously."

"Oh ho! We got a talker!" the man chortled as he strode up in front of her, crossing his arms to survey her in her conscious state. "You'll be fun then."

"Why do I get the feeling that this 'fun' you speak of will only entertain half of this party?" she inquired, putting on a puzzled expression. "Aw, you ruined it," he replied, looking utterly crestfallen. "Stiff, we snatched a dud!" he called back from the vague area that he entered, and the man curiously named Stiff started towards them as well.

"Well that sucks," he replied in dismay, coming to stand next to the first man. Stiff seemed to be named so from his lacking ability to move his head separately from the rest of his body, but that was just a shot in the dark and for some reason Mia figured she was wrong. "I'm sure we can find something to do with her."

"Such as?" a new voice inquired, a voice that the two men didn't seem to recognise judging from the slightly spooked expressions on their faces. Fighting past the extreme discomfort she craned her neck so she could see this new stranger, but was slightly taken aback. He appeared to be wearing what looked like a much-worn British Revolutionary jacket, unbuttoned and of a faded red, and Mia was quite convinced he was a complete loon. "No, really, I want to know," he pressed as he strode over to them, hands jammed in pockets and looking stern, then added "Might join in if it's my cup of tea," making her stomach plummet.

"Oh, well," Stiff bumbled with a hesitant grin. "Might rough her up a bit, just to spook her, you know? Got nothing in particular in mind, but we'll find something. How's that?"

The man, coming up to the opposite side of the other two, settled into place, bracing his feet and crossing his arms in thought. "Nothing more? That's it? Haven't terrified her enough?" he asked, coming to the edge of a demand, enough to make the men glance uneasily at one another, then just as quickly switched back to "No, sorry, never mind, have at her. She's not looking too bad for wear."

Looking like they were children just granted free run of a candy shop the two men directed their focus back to Mia, casually sidling up to her yet looking utterly lost. She tried shooting the man a pleading look, but he seemed to not see her, watching the two men instead.

"Hit her," he offered, and Mia's jaw near dropped. "Got some pent up stress? Let it out. God knows it's worked for me," he smirked.

"You're a piece of work, you know that?" she demanded of him as the first man slapped her across the cheek. When the other two weren't paying attention the Revolutionary finally acknowledged her, fixing a steady gaze at her.

"Jesus Christ," he said with dismay, shaking his head at the two of them, then with a sudden bang-bang they fell to the floor, and stunned Mia looked at him, two massive pistols in his fists. "Your mother must not have raised you right," he murmured, then stowing the guns away turned around and headed back from where he came.

"Hey, wait a second! Where the hell d'you think you're going?" Mia demanded, fighting against her ropes but to no avail. "You can't just shoot them and leave me behind."

"Yes I can," he called back, not turning around. "You've got a pair of scissors in your back pocket. Cut your own damn self out." Somehow it was then that she noticed his accent.

"Wha- I can't reach those! Get your ass over here and cut me loose!" she yelled at him. This seemed to do the trick as he threw his arms up, spun on his heels and came back over to her.

"God, you are a nuisance," he muttered, unabashedly grabbing the scissors from her pocket to start sawing through the rope.

"You're quite an angel yourself, there," she retorted, and as the tension loosened she stood up quickly in case he was going to turn on her as well.

"Why thank you," he replied, looking pleased as he put the scissors back in her pocket, giving her back end a slap for good measure before retreating again.

"Hey! Stay here! Who the hell do you think you are?" she said with a demanding snarl, grabbing hold of his shoulder so he couldn't get away, and he spun around to face her, nose inches away.

"Since you insist, Captain John Hart, at your service," he replied in a rather mocking tone, shrugging his shoulder to regain possession of his coat.

Despite her incredible loathing and distrust of him she felt compelled to return the 'courtesy', responding "Mia Jones" through semi-gritted teeth.

"Oh, pleasure to meet you, Miss Mia Jones," he shot back, and made to leave again.

"Oi! What the hell is your problem? Sit your ass down until I'm done with you."

"Such a foul mouth for a young lady," Hart marveled, crossing his arms to sum her up, then grinned mischeviously. "But I like your thinking."

"Hey, Captain, eyes up here," she snapped as his gaze lingered on her still mostly-bare chest. "And stop thinking through your pants. What are you doing here?" she pressed, unable to hide the flushing in her cheeks. "What's a man dressed as a Revolutionary soldier doing in the twenty first century?"

"I got lost," he shrugged, and Mia noticed a small light at his wrist, a very modern, almost futuristic wristwatch hiding out of sight.

"What's that?" she continued, making to reach for it, only to be shoved back by Hart as he turned away again. This time she strode after him, making sure her footsteps could be heard, and he glared over his shoulder at her. "Like hell you're lost."

"You are unbearable!" he roared, digging his fingers into his hair.

"Give me your coat and I'll quit bugging you," she offered.

"What? No, I don't do chivalry."

"Jesus, you are an ass," she said with contempt, then pressed, "Give me your coat and I'll stop asking questions. The personal ones, at least. I'm not tagging after you with no shirt on," she scoffed.

"Fine!" he caved. "It's a vortex manipulator. It lets me travel through time and space. I'm a time agent, one of seven still surviving. Happy?" he growled.

"Relatively," she grumbled. "I'm still following you, though."

"Why?" he snarled as he continued walking, Mia following, regardless.

"If they come after me. You'll shoot them dead, assuming they've got the balls to come near you," she snorted, looking behind her to make sure no one was coming, only to walk into the muzzle of a gun. Immediately her heart took off, but trying to look nonchalant gazed up at him with a candid look on her face. "You going to shoot me, John? Go ahead, do it," she dared him, holding her head up. The gun strayed, betrayed hesitation, but she redirected it, pressing it to her chest till it dug into her skin. "Go for it. Life's been boring. Let me go out with a bang," she offered, mouth twitching at the pun. For a few moments he simply stared at her, eyes narrowed and burning with determination to carry out his want, to pull the trigger, but--

His hand dropped, head turning away with disdain as he re-holstered the gun before pulling the jacket off and offering it to her, still not meeting her gaze.

"Thanks," she replied cheerily, donning the coat and buttoning the first few buttons in a bad attempt for decency. The fabric reeked of blood and sweat, of adventure. "Ready?"

"If you insist," he growled, and figuring she'd never get an outright "Yes" out of him trailed along behind him as he made for a new door, to exit the warehouse and leave it behind.

* * *

**A/N: If you could, review with continuation ideas, mayhap... I'm not sure where it'll go, but I want it to continue. If not, reviews would be nice :) constructive criticism is good!**


	2. Reiteration

"So, what exactly IS this Time Agency of yours?" 

"What happened to the 'I'll stop asking questions if you give me your coat' promise?" Hart demanded with annoyance as they walked down the sidewalk, ignoring sideways glances from passersby.

"Well, for SOME reason I'm convinced your attire and pistols have something to do with your Time Agency occupation, and seeing as the both of us are getting twenty double-takes a piece I was wondering about it, generalised," Mia replied, trying her best to sound sarcastic, but catching a stranger's eye dimmed it down out of sheepishness.

He sighed, casting observing glances all around. "Yes, the look is from my stint in the Time Agency. Old habits die hard."

"I can see that," she replied, eyeing him up again. Besides the pistols strapped to his thighs, buckle-up boots and filthy thick cotton undershirt obviously from another era, Captain John Hart would fit in quite nicely. "So then have any of these old habits actually bit the dust?"

"Of course!" he scoffed, giving her his half-smirk smile. "I'm wearing blue jeans."

"Oh! Yes, you are, right, how thick of me to not notice," she exclaimed, slapping her forehead. Hart's worn war coat slipped on her shoulder and she pulled it back up, shaking her head at the thought of him.

"Be glad I don't have my sword on me," he muttered, and Mia stopped dead in her tracks.

"Did you say SWORD?" she demanded, and without hindering his stride he threw a grin over his shoulder at her, issuing a muted cackle.

"You seem to have a considerably strong grip on reality, one that you are reluctant to loosen your hold on," he remarked as they came to a crosswalk, continuing on without casting any looks around him.

"It helps to have a level head on one's shoulders once in a while," she responded firmly, grabbing his arm to keep him from getting hit by a car that sped past, horns blaring.

"Oh, but that's no fun," he remarked in mock dismay, leaning closer to her as she tightened her grip on his arm to prevent him from pursuing. "It's hard to live a little if you're chaining yourself to the ground."

"But it's SAFE down on earth," she emphasised, quickly crossing the street as soon as the coast was clear in an attempt to cut his flirting short. "Well, except when you're kidnapped out of the blue and rescued by a Time Agent who won't dress to blend into the current time period!"

"If I might point out, neither of us are getting a scenic route through the city from the back of a copper's car," mused Hart as he regained possession of his arm. "So you could lay off the slagging, just a bit at least."

"Now THAT is what's not fun," she laughed. "And speaking of which, why is it that we're not handcuffed in a police car? Isn't it illegal to carry firearms out in the open like you so brazenly are?"

"Oh, my wee little thing! How much you have to learn. Perception filters; technically you can see them, but you're half convinced they're not really there. Little piece of Time Agency technology that let's us make people think they're going crazy."

"Good lord, no wonder there's only seven of you left," Mia remarked, giving him a smirk but seeing the expression on his face cleared her throat and changed the subject. "So are we supposed to be going somewhere in particular?"

"Yes, actually. I for one would like to have my coat back but know I won't get it back until you've got something else to wear, SO I am making you buy something for yourself for YOU to wear, that will belong to YOU. Not something that is 'borrowed' out of persistance," he added, and before she could object Hart cast her a scowl and she bit her tongue. Looking up, for the sake of looking anywhere but at her, he stopped in his tracks to scrutinize the sign.

"What?" she asked after a few moments, following his gaze and then rolling her eyes.

"Speak of the devil, clothes. Come on, quit complaining. I want my coat back!"

* * *

A half hour later Mia was sourly handing back Hart's coat, trading for a black leather jacket that he had all but forced her to get. He had also insisted upon a rather revealing halter top, but after giving him a particularly menacing glare he made due with an average t-shirt.

"How exactly are you intending to pay for this?" she murmured to him as they made their way to the check-out counter, the clerk casting Hart a skeptical look despite her own bubble-gum pink hair and string of ear piercings. "There's no way you have a wallet on you. Your pants are too tight for any leniency."

"Glad to know you've been looking," he bantered, giving her a wink when she realised she should have kept her mouth shut. "Trust me. I'm a Time Agent."

"And why does this not console me?" Mia nearly growled, rubbing her eyes as she felt the threat of a headache coming on. As the clerk rang up the clothes with the already-removed tags she asked dully 'cash or credit', and choosing the latter outstretched his arm to twiddle with his vortex manipulator and swiped it across where a credit card would normally go.

"What's that?" the clerk demanded with a fought scowl.

"New credit card system," Hart explained with nonchalance, punching in his apparent PIN number and scribbling his signature, setting the pen down to look her down with confidence.

"Like those pay-and-go cards or whatever. His is a bit of a prototype, but it works. See? It's rung up on the computer," Mia pointed out, nodding at the blinking screen. Sure enough, a total showed up, and after punching a few buttons on the keyboard gave Hart a reciept and a 'Have a nice day' before the two were back out the door.

"Why do I get the feeling that that was the biggest pile of crap ever?" Mia asked wryly after about ten seconds.

"Because it is! Well, not THE biggest, but quite large, regardless. The bill will stay in their systems for six months, give or take, then they'll simply go away," he replied casually, walking with a bit of a swagger.

"Another trick of the Time Agency, then?" she muttered, shuffling to get used to the feel of new clothes. The tag at the neck of her shirt was incredibly itchy and her leather coat had the faint feel of cardboard, so swung her arms to break it in.

"Of course," scoffed Hart. "So, I can't help but look past this burning thought. Why do you keep a pair of scissors in your back pocket?"

"You just couldn't let that go, could you?" she sighed, scratching at her head to hide her flushing cheeks, but he refused to be swayed. "It's an inside joke between my friend and me. Long story."

"I'm convinced we have the time," he pointed out, and before she could object added "It's only fair, after you heckled me about who I am."

"You are evil, Captain Hart, you know that? I utterly refuse to elaborate, but it involves suspenders and a guy named Jack."

"Small world," he mused. "Coincidentally, I also know a fellow by the name of Jack, and last I saw him he wore suspenders."

"God, if Nicole were here she'd never let me live this down," she muttered, not loud enough for Hart to hear, but she thought she heard him fight back a snort all the same.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Noth-- where exactly are we headed to now? Don't tell me you're gonna make me shave my head or something so no one will recognize me," she pleaded suddenly, and he looked away, expression drawn.

"What?"

"Nothing. No, I'm not going to force you to shave your head. Your hair is too lovely for that," he teased. "I've got to take you home. People tend to be too thick for their own good and they'll think they can come after me and shoot me down, and let's face it they very well could."

"How would home be any better than with you?"

"You'd be with people you actually know and could stand," he replied, and she flushed, feeling embarrassed and slightly ashamed.

"That would imply that they still might come after me. And who says I actually get along with my family? As far as you know you might be more bearable than any or all of them combined," she replied with a wry grin.

"Yes, well, your chances of getting caught in any crossfire would be drastically decreased. And sorry, I don't feel like having to scrape you up off the sidewalk."

"Ah, ever the gentleman."

"Every time," he winked, and looking before them saw a metro bus booth a few meters in front of them. Coming to stand next to the glass box they peered down the street, and as luck would have it a bus was on its way.

"Are you coming with me?" Mia asked, rather shyly, and Hart looked taken aback.

"For a portion of the trip," he murmured, starting to fiddle with his vortex manipulator again. Thankfully they were the only ones at this particular stop, so when the door to the bus hissed open he could scan the wrist piece with minimal alert to others. "Ladies first," he offered, but before she stepped aboard the bus she stopped to look at him.

"Thanks."

"For finally being chivalrous?"

"That, yes," she laughed. "But thanks for everything. Saving me at the start, lending me your coat then buying these. Although you only did that so you could get your coat back," she teased.

"Guilty as charged," he replied ruefully, holding his hands up in surrender, then giving an exaggerated bow repeated "After you," to which she stuck out her tongue at him before climbing aboard to find two empty seats.

"Do you even know where this bus is going? Hell, d'you even know where I live?" she demanded, turning around to face him but blanked instead. He was gone. As the bus door shut she clambered to the window, but her search was in vain, for he was nowhere to be seen.

"Damn," she muttered, temper kicking up for the second time that day. "Arschloch. He said he was coming with, and now I'm gonna get shot on a bus that goes to God knows where..." She blinked. Where WAS she supposed to be going? Home, yes, but where was home? All of a sudden she could not remember where home was, and panic started to bubble up in her throat, her guard at long last being broken down. Dropping heavily to the seat she drew her legs up and set her chin on her knees, mind racing in an attempt to remember. She couldn't even muster up an image of home, or anywhere near there. School, nothing. Friends' houses, nothing. Anything involving locations or any attachments to the past nineteen years of her life were gone without a trace.

Mia would have dwelled in this state of utter hopelessness for the rest of the bus ride or until she got kicked off, but a few moments later she felt a subconscious tingling at her neck, as if someone were staring at her. Casting a quick and discreet glance up to confirm or deny this she saw two men sitting further down the bus busy themselves, as if they had been caught and were fighting to make themselves appear innocent. The hairs on the back of her neck sprung up, and the sole instinct that filled her mind was to get away as easily and as subtly as was humanly possible. Accenting thoughts consisted mostly of strings of curses in multiple languages, the only things she had retained from foreign language classes in middle school. Randomly she wondered if letting these words be heard would increase her chances of escape, to simply be written off as crazy, but figured it would be best to keep them in her head.

As the next stop loomed closer she peered out the window, and let out the smallest sigh of relief at her discovery of a large crowd, and as the bus groaned to a stop she shot to her feet and hid casually among the crowd to see if the two men were following her. Damn it. They were.

Before they had gotten to the steps she had slipped away and was striding down the sidewalk, keeping her head down and staying next to the buildings to avoid accidentally bumping into anyone. Reaching the corner she contemplated crossing the street but instead turned and continued on the block, yet as she turned around to see if she had shaken them loose swore when she saw them catch sight of her and drastically quicken their pace. To hell with subtlety, she thought, and broke into a run, and hearing the men take up the same thought abruptly turned into an alley way. Spotting a dumpster she made for it and wedged herself behind it, forcing herself to calm down so as to not give herself away. She covered her mouth, shrinking in place as she heard two sets of footsteps patter past, and giving them seven seconds dashed back out, intending to head back to the street when something caught her eye.

A fire escape ladder, hanging down discreetly, and shooting one last look in the direction the men had run shot out and leapt for it, swinging until she could pull herself up. She scrambled up the ladders and flatways with a monkey-like dexterity, yet as she came to the rooftop faltered, finding she had reached a dead end. Frantically she ran to the edges, searching for some way to carry on, when she heard a scrabbling at the fire escape and she spun about.

"What the hell d'you even want from me?" Mia demanded, more annoyed than afraid.

"Well, right now we just want you to quit running away," one of the men replied, dusting off his pants and sleeves before crossing his arms.

"I've only run off once."

"Yeah, after you shot two of our guys."

"How could I have shot them? I was tied up," she retorted. "And to trim back the stupid questions I didn't somehow get ahold of the guy who DID shoot them. He came on his own. God knows how he found me or why he was there."

"Working on my chivalry, of course!" scoffed a familiar voice, and Mia was filled with immediate relief. Hopping over the parapet with a subtle grace Hart aimed one gun in the general direction of the men, the other hand hanging from his belt by a thumb.

"And what are YOU doing here?" growled Mia, fighting to make herself appear enraged. "You took me to the bus and then scarpered. When I was saying thank you, too!"

"Sorry, love, forgot I had a previous engagement," he replied ruefully, slowly sidling along the side of the roof in her discreet direction.

"Don't you 'sorry, love' me," she sneered. "You promised you'd look after me til I got home, and for the record I don't live on a bloody public bus."

"Since when did I promise you anything?" he exclaimed, coming up next to her and keeping the gun pointed at the men. "I said that you had to go home cos if you stuck with me something like this would happen again. And oh, what d'you know, it did!" Now Hart had started to pace slowly in a circle around her, and as his back was to her would-be kidnappers he gave her a reassuring wink. At least she hoped it was in reassurance.

"What the hell are you talking about?" one of the men asked incredulously, giving Hart a sour look. Mia wondered how often he got that reaction.

"Oh, don't you worry your little head," he smiled sweetly, and without warning his free hand shot up around Mia's front to secure her body to his, the muzzle of his gun pressed against her head. Her breath catching in her throat she couldn't help but mentally curse his name and wonder what his true intentions were. "I'm feeling generous today, I'll take her off your hands for you, shall I?" As she did not spit out a retort right away he tilted his head down to exhale sharply in her ear, making her jump.

"You know, I'm quite tired of being dragged around by men who seem to want nothing more than to terrorize me. Could you just let me go and let me jump off the ledge? I'm pretty sure it would solve everyone's problems," she offered darkly.

"Ah, but then what fun are you to the rest of us, particularly me?" he replied, sounding hurt. "Very well then, off we go." Letting his hand boldly slide down her torso to wrap around her stomach Hart nudged her to start walking, and as they moved he added "Give us thirty seconds after we disappear, then you can start looking. Sound fair enough? Good! Ta," and with that he hoisted Mia over the ledge of the fire escape and ushered her to the end of the platform, stashing away his gun to press buttons on his vortex manipulator.

"Until I say so," he breathed in her ear, his words blowing at her hair, "Do not move."

This was much easier said than done Mia learned after scarcely two seconds. Showing no signs of releasing his hold on her Hart securely held her to him, feeling he was being much more restrictive than was necessary. She was convinced that as a Time Agent he had the ability to slow time to a snail's crawl, for the next half-minute dragged on feeling like ten minutes at the least, but at long last the two men raced down the steps, walking past them with pure oblivion. She could hear him breathe out a count of thirty seconds more before slowly unwrapping himself from her, yet again pressing buttons upon his wristpiece.

"You were being way too thorough, there," Mia told him as he led the way back down the fire escape, glaring at the back of his head.

"Just being cautious," he defended.

"So then what was that, perception filter on a grander scale?"

He chuckled. "They made one hell of a mistake stealing you away. You've probably got more smarts than all of them combined. Yes, that was the perception filter. I can toggle it on and off to hide or reveal whatever on my person. Passengers included," he grinned as he jumped to the ground from the top of the last ladder, making Mia roll her eyes. Boys.

"And I bet you've used that to the fullest extent," she said wryly, climbing down the ladder. Before she could drop down to the ground Hart plucked her from the last run and set her lightly upon her feet, and she scowled at him.

"Of course I have. Not doing so would just be... disrespectful!"

She laughed, a big hearty laugh. "Try as I might, I cannot help but agree with you there. God knows how far you'd go... and please, don't humor me. Just leave it to my imagination," she pleaded, and he chuckled.

"If you insist," he murmured, trailing off before fidgiting in place. "So, I've got a considerably strong hunch that those fools aren't going to let you go so easily, and there's no way in hell that you'd be safe at home."

"Are you asking me to stick with you?" she purred in a very girly way, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Oh, you've got no choice in the matter!" he chortled. "Like it or not you're gonna HAVE to stick with me. I'm not gonna let you just get sucked up by those pigs. Spin 'em round fast enough and they'll forget what they wanted from you in the first place."

"John, are you sure this is alright? I won't be a burden or anything?" Mia asked hesitantly, sticking her hands in her pockets.

He snorted. "My clothes are a burden, but you don't see me strutting around getting my kit off, now do you? It's perfectly alright."

"Alright then," she laughed, fending away the mental image of Hart stripping down at a street corner. "But if I'm going to be under your watchful eye, can I ask you a question?"

"No, because it'll turn into twenty and they will all be irrelevant to the first," he scoffed with a grin. "Sure."

"Will you teach me how to become a Time Agent?"


	3. Would Be Agent

Under some other circumstance Mia would not have minded having to hold someone's hand for five hours straight. If the person's hand she was holding were closer to her age, less of a loose cannon and didn't strut about in the image of an antiqued British soldier she would have been fine with it, but as that was not the case she was forced to deal with five hours of awkwardness and annoyance. 

"Is there no other loophole or _anything_ that I can just let go of your hand?" Mia pleaded for the umpteenth time in the past twenty minutes, weaving through a small crowd of people. "Just standing next to you, or being tied to you or something?"

"You'd rather be tied to me than hold my hand? You should take that back while you have the chance," he chuckled, making her flush. "And no, there aren't any loopholes. Physical contact must be made in order for the perception filter to include you as well. Being tied to me _would_ make it a bit easier, but this takes less effort," he explained, holding up their hands and placing a flirtatious kiss upon her knuckles, and Mia had to fight to keep from pulling away.

"So is there some intended location that we're walking to, or are we just meandering around to put some mileage in our shoes?"

"You sound as if holding my hand is a chore," he scoffed, sounding hurt.

"My feet hurt," she defended, but couldn't help but mentally shout 'duh!' at him. "Where to, chief?"

"Captain," he corrected. She rolled her eyes. "We can look for some motel or something to stay for the night," he offered, and Mia's hand abruptly clenched tightly at his, a sharp twitch.

"Sorry, hand's freezing up," she mumbled, looking at the ground to hide her embarrassment.

"I was going to offer a cardboard box on the sidewalk, but that would still require contact," he pointed out. "Motel at least we'd have a bit of privacy and separate beds."

Knowing there would be no better option Mia sighed, rubbing at her eyes with her free hand. "Fine. As long as I don't get a gun pointed at me or knocked out, I don't care."

* * *

Within the span of an hour they had found a chain-motel and booked a room for the night, Mia's nerves shot when she had let go of his hand.

"To satisfy your latest inquisition of the Time Agency," Hart said as he unlocked their door and stepped inside, flicking on the lightswitch, "I will need to step out again for a wee bit of shopping, and whilst I do that I need you to behave yourself and stay in here, no wandering. Can you do that for me?" he asked, prepared to turn around and leave again.

"If your shopping includes food then I will gladly oblige," she replied eagerly, and with a nod Hart stepped around her and into the hall.

"Use all the locks and look through the eye hole to make sure it's me when I come back," he told her, slightly condescendingly, and pressing a button he all but vanished from sight and strode off down the hall.

"Yes, sir," she muttered, shutting the door and striding into the room, flopping down on the side of the bed and peeling her shoes off, flinging them to the floor with contempt. After she tugged off her coat she fell back to the bed with a heavy sigh, eyelids shutting with no resistance. A few minutes later she realised she hadn't turned the television on yet really wanted to, despite the equal want to stay put, but finally with an 'oof' she rolled off the bed and turned the set on, returning to her spot with the remote in tow.

Mia didn't notice time passing at all whatsoever and so was sluggishly confused when she heard the tapping on the door, and with a groan to the ceiling called out "Who is it?"

"Your babysitter," Hart retorted, then thudded at the door again, most likely with his knee. "Come on, let me in, I forgot the key here."

"Fat load of good you are," she mumbled, reluctantly stumbling to her feet and going to peer through the eye hole before pulling the door open.

"I heard that! Such a kind charge you are," he growled, setting one bag on the bed and the other upon the faux-pine paneled desk. "I bring you food yet you look down upon me."

"Did you say food?" she demanded, diving for the first bag and retrieving a bag of pretzels, ravenously tearing into it and crunching away. "Thank you much."

"I live to serve," he responded sarcastically, pulling off his coat and tossing it onto the unoccupied second bed before sitting down at the desk and rifling through his bag.

"And what have you?" she mused, sidling up next to him to rest her hip against the desk, nibbling at a pretzel.

"You have a snowball's chance in hell of becoming a Time Agent any time soon, but that doesn't mean that you coudn't use any of their equiptment."

"Meaning...?"

"I'm no technician, but I can make you a very watered-down version of a vortex manipulator. Strong emphasis on 'very'," he explained ruefully.

"So what, I'll end up with a fam dancy wristwatch that has a fifty-fifty chance of doing something as basic as telling time?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Come on, give me more credit than that!" he scoffed, pulling out a cell phone, radio, wristwatch, screwdriver and soldering iron, plugging the last one in to a nearby outlet. "I'm going to try -- emphasis on 'try' this time -- to make a sort of tracker-slash-intercom thing. It _might _end up with something fancier, but don't count on anything. Now, little to no interruptions would be wonderful, so if you'll excuse me I would like to begin."

"You know, 'sod off' has the same effect and is faster to say," she teased, but all the same left him to his work, retreating to the bed to catch up on mindless television.

After the passing of an hour Mia pulled herself from the bed to see how much progress Hart had made, peering over his shoulder and resting a hand upon the back of his chair.

"Not much progress," he mumbled, not looking away from his work to make a face at her, and after a few minutes of monitoring his nimble fingers she was fighting to suppress a string of yawns and retreated back to her bed, curling up and shutting her eyes.

Not five minutes later John turned around to look at Mia to see if she had fallen asleep, but as her back was to him he was unsure, yet regardlessly he reached over to the television buttons and turned the volume down a few notches. A few minutes after that he did the same thing until he gradually turned it off entirely, leaving her breathing and his working the only sounds to reach his ears.

At long last, after setting down his tools for the last time he stretched in his chair, locking his hands behind his head and glancing at the digital clock that read 1:33 AM. Quietly picking up and putting away the unneeded scraps he turned off all the lights except for the lamp upon the shared nightstand, and pulling up the edge of Mia's blanket to set it over her he placed the completed watch beside her head.

"Enjoy, would-be Agent," he murmured, placing a light kiss upon her brow before turning off the last light and settling himself in the center of his bed, unable to tell the difference between the ceiling and the insides of his eyelids.

* * *

**A/N: The story line from here on out is kinda hazy, so apologies for the inevitable delays... lemme know what you think so far!!**


	4. Old Hart, Lone Wolf

**A/N: Terribly terribly sorry for the horrendous delay... worst case of writer's block ever :/ So, good news and bad news. Bad news, this chapter ended up a bit less than I was hoping (but still good!!). GOOD news, I have everything worked out up until an eigth chapter, and indending to carry on a bit longer! So hopefully that's good news for you too :)**

**and, very delayed (sorry again) thanks to IndeMaat (chapter two is thanks to you!!) and covenant1 (GregsLabrat and horns-halo4ever don't count cos I made them read this)**

* * *

"I vote for the investment in an umbrella," Mia declared as she and Hart dashed into the lobby of the motel, thoroughly wiping her feet on the doormat. 

"If you see one, let me know," Hart agreed, shaking out his coat and running a hand through his hair before striding down the hall to their room. "I hate the rain."

"What, you don't like your English sunshine?" she scoffed with a grin.

"If you grew up with weather like this you'd learn to loathe it. I love my little wrist strap," he added, speaking to his vortex manipulator and giving it a kiss. Mia rolled her eyes.

"For the record I HAVE grown up with weather like this, and I've learned to love it, thank you very much. I'd kill to have some real English sunshine," she sighed as they came to their door, Hart unlocking it and leading the way inside.

"Yes, well, it's rather overrated, to be honest," he replied ruefully, taking off his coat and tossing it on his bed next to his sword. The day before, after Mia had stepped out of the bathroom from a shower, she came to find that Hart was missing, and some three hours later he returned, sword in tow.

"It so isn't," she retorted, sticking her tongue out at him. "I want to go to the UK so bad, it's not even funny."

"Well, I doubt you're heading there any time soon, so you'll just have to make due with me," he replied with a cheeky grin, laying down on the bed and stretching out. Noticing Mia looking at him with a wrinkled nose he added "What?"

"It's taken me a week to notice, but your shirt is insanely filthy," she explained, her hands on her hips, then took a step towards him with a hand held out. "Come on, give it up."

"Does this mean you've changed your mind about me?" he inquired with a wily gleam in his eye, sitting up.

"No, it means that I'm going to clean it because it needs cleaning. And I have nothing better to do."

Hart gave an exasperated sigh, then brightened slightly. "I'll give it over, but you have to let me out. I need to do some last minute shopping."

"What for?"

"Easy, disposable entertainment. I'll behave, promise," he added, and with alarming ease he whisked the shirt off and handed it to her, grabbing up his coat and pulling it on. "Wait up for me?" he asked with a cheeky grin, and rolling her eyes Mia threw the shirt back at his face before walking into the bathroom to fill the sink up with water, and by the time she had come to retrieve the shirt he had left.

"To no end," she muttered with a sigh, scooping up his still-warm shirt and twisting it in her hands as she took it into the bathroom to submerge it in the water. The hot water immediately carried away the filth, and as Mia added a bar of soap to the mixture pondered with an odd dose of sorrow at where all of the dirt had come from. He was a Time Agent, yes, so that clarified that it could have been millenia old, theoretically. But what had he said the other day about some alien technology...?

She shook her head, ignoring the thought. It didn't matter. With a sigh Mia opened the shirt up, turning it inside out to try and scrub at the stronger blood stains, taking care to not increase the size of the countless tears and bullet holes in the fabric. A few other marks in it she was utterly puzzled by, such as the eight tiny holes making a circle right above where his heart was, and resolved to ask Hart about it when he returned. Mia paused her scrubbing, then cast a glance to the door with a musing expression. IF he returned, she corrected.

Miraculously Hart did indeed return, after a decent half hour of course, with his 'easy, disposable entertainment' half gone by the time he staggered through the door.

"John, WHAT the hell is that?" Mia demanded, pointing to the carboard six-packs he set down on his bed, one of which was half empty.

"I told you, easy and disposable entertainment," he defended, looking hurt. "You couldn't make me to watch any more of that garbage on the telly, for sex _or _money."

"It's not that bad!" she retorted. "It's better than THAT, anyways."

"Hey, I haven't had any of THAT in ages, and that's saying something," he chuckled, flopping down and taking out a bottle and taking off his jacket, flinging it aside.

"Ugh, you're horrendous," she replied, wrinkling her nose. "I'm blaming you for never wanting to get married."

"Oh, trust me, you don't want to," Hart chortled, leaning back and crossing his ankles, watching her with slightly unfocused eyes. "My partner in the Agency, I got stuck in a time loop with him for two weeks which ended up being five years. _That _was the equivalent of being married."

"Yeah, but it was with a Time Agent, so it couldn't have been _that _bad," she tried. He shook his head, taking a swig at the same time.

"No, it was. Foot loose and fancy free, that's the way you want to go," he winked.

Mia rolled her eyes. "If you say so." Picking up the shirt that was hanging over a chair next to the noisily clicking heater she tossed it over to him. "See? Look how well I cleaned it."

"Ah, 'tis lovely work," he replied with a grin, downing the bottle and picking up his shirt, looking it over to investigate how thorough she was. "Oh wow, you got out the blood stains. God that one was old, too..."

"Yeah, I was meaning to ask you, how'd you get all of those?" she asked, perching on the edge of her own bed. "None look pleasant and all look unusual."

"That's cos they are, love," he replied, grinning cheekily at her. "Let me see... that one I got when I was fighting for my sword in medieval Korea about, that one was from a stray arrow.. not sure where. Ooh, that one was from a tree branch, I remember. Blunt objects are _not _pleasant things to have jabbed into your gut," he pointed out.

"What about those? That ring of holes. Those look particularly foul," she interrupted, not wanting to let him carry on about vicious trees.

"Ah, that one," he sighed hesitantly, sobering up ever so slightly. He broke into another bottle to fix this. "Long story short, it was an exploding device sent to me from an, ah, ex-lover I killed whilst trying to con her out of a diamond."

"Sorry, I must have heard wrong. You killed your lover, just for a diamond?" she demanded.

"It wasn't just any diamond," Hart defended. "It was an _Arcadian _diamond. There's hardly anything rarer or more valuable to be found in the whole of time and space. Besides," he sighed, "She didn't have one anyways. She conned me out of my con."

Mia wasn't satisfied. "Make the short story long. Explain."

Hart gave an exasperated sigh. "You're as bad as Jack! My wives will never let me be. So, after I had killed my lover I followed a set of canisters she sent out, me believing them to reveal the location of her Arcadian diamond. The canisters landed in Cardiff, and as luck would have it Cardiff was precisely where my Agency partner had taken residence, and even luckier he had his own little team!" He shook his head. "They really should have gone with Bikini Cops... anyways, I told them all that the canisters were cluster bombs filled with acid or something that would slowly eat through the canisters and poison the city, et cetera. Somehow they believed me, and I snatched up the canisters, relatively immobilizing the team in the process. Actually, I killed Jack, but that was mostly because he was poking fun at me." Mia blanched at this, but held her remorse, giving him a chance for redemption. "Yadda yadda I go back to HQ to put the pieces together when the team comes back, all in one piece, Jack included. Apparently, he can't die. Go figure. They make me open the box, turns out there's no diamond, lover brewed up some bomb that would attach itself to whoever it was that killed her -- yours truly -- and I've got ten minutes to live. I chain myself to Jack's bird so of _course _I get saved, but at the end of it no one is very pleased with me, obviously. Throughout the whole ordeal, though, I remember how much I miss Jack, and after failing to get him to join the dark side tried to convince him to let me in his little team."

"That didn't go well, did it?" Mia asked.

"Nope. Didn't want me on his territory, that was one of his excuses," he snorted, shaking his head.

"So then is that why you changed? So he might take you back next time you see him?" she inquired.

"I never said I changed my ways. Old habits die hard, remember?"

"Yeah, but it's kind of obvious. The John Hart you just told me about is a different John Hart than the one that's sitting here, the one that saved me more than once from thick kidnappers. I have a feeling the old Hart would only save me the once if he knew he'd be getting something fairly decent out of deal. You're just cashing up the brownie points so Jack will take you back," she grinned.

"So what if I am?" Hart snapped, immediately wiping the smirk from her face. "Life and love like that comes around hardly once in a lifetime, and once you know you've found it and lose it, nothing's ever the same again. The drink doesn't have the same old buzz. The drugs don't rip you from the edge of reality anymore. The sex doesn't leave you stunned and stuttering and you're scrambling for something better. Hell, the odd kill loses its thrill after a while. Everything grows cold in the end if you don't have the right light to burn it away."

This certainly kept Mia quiet for a while. She never thought a man like Hart could be poetic and enraged simultaneously, yet he had certainly thrown her off guard and left her speechless. Regardless she gave it a shot.

"I'm sorry," she replied quietly, pulling her feet up to look at her knees. "I can't say I can relate, but... but to an extent I can understand how it'd get to you, how you'd want to..redeem yourself in his eyes, to remind him you're worth your salt. Something like that," she mumbled, shaking her head.

Hart sighed, folding his hands in his lap and slowly fidgeting his thumbs, and sheepishly Mia took him in, the scarred and battered lone wolf of the Time Agency, separated from his pack by war and shunned by a brother, a lover, wanting to rebuild all anew without reminder of the past.

"No, I'm sorry," he responded, his newly achieved chivalry taking first instinct. "I shouldn't have snapped. The bad weather must be wearing on my nerves, and that plus whatever the hell this is--" he held up a bottle "--is obviously not a good combination. So much for the rehabs, eh?" he grinned to Mia, and she groaned, flopping to her side.

"You did NOT just say 'rehabs', as in plural," she whimpered with a smile, glancing up at him. Hart grinned.

* * *

**A/N: Apologies for the lameness... but I promise Chapter 5 will be loads better :D really!!**


	5. See You In Hell

**huzzah, chapter five!! alright, gotta give thanks to horns-halos4ever and GregsLabrat cos the former got cross with me when I said her reading this didn't count... ANYways, I just found out about the finale of Torchwood and I'm still in my denial phase cos I love Hart too much, so Hart's gonna stay good in this little story here-- sorry to burst any wicked bubbles.. song excerpt mentioned at the end is from "Sweet and Low" by Augustana, which you must listen to as I don't own it and can't share like lovely pieces of candy... sigh oh, same for Hart as well, yadda yadda, you know all the rest. Enjoy!!**

* * *

"No, absolutely not, no way in hell!"

"Mia, I'm the one in charge and I say I am taking you home."

"You know how ridiculous you sound when you say that?"

"Pretty ridiculous, yeah. Don't distract me! I am taking you home."

"You're the one who said home wouldn't be safe for me," Mia retorted, stating the blatantly obvious. "D'you just want to rescue me again? I can pretend to fall from a window or something if you like."

"Oh, ha ha ha, VERY funny," Hart replied sarcastically. "No, I do not have the need to rescue you again just for the sake of my ego, it was big enough without meeting you. I am taking you home because it has been--" he glanced at his wrist strap "-- twelve days since you were last kidnapped, which in my book means that the fools have given up on you, which in everyone's book means it's safe for you to go home, so, whether you like it or not you're heading home," he finished ruefully.

Mia crossed her arms, the ideal image of stubbornness. "You'll have to be disabling this, then," she said, waiving her own wrist strap at him.

"Why's that?"

"Cos I'll be bugging the living hell out of you. Remember that little message machine trick you showed me? Yeah, I'll be using your own tricks to bring you down."

Hart mentally swore. WHY couldn't those fools have kidnapped someone thicker and sheep-like? No, they just _had _to snatch up an attractively rebellious girl who'd lure you in with a smile before shooting you down with spit and sarcasm. _Why _did he have to be such a sucker for fighters?

"Mia, by now it's pointless to be dragging you in irrelevant circles to mislead baddies who aren't even looking for you. You've been away from home for two weeks, do you not think anyone is looking for you?"

She looked away. She hadn't taken that into account, apparently. "But what if I don't want to go home?" she asked quietly. Hart sighed.

"If we leave here you're not safe with me," he replied softly, hanging his thumbs by his belt. "And no, there's no way I'd be sticking around here. Besides your admirers there's no crime in this city, and I'd be forced to make some for my own entertainment. I couldn't put you in any situation such as that."

"Hold on," Mia replied, slowly looking back to him, brow knit in thought. "You're just trying to ditch me so you can scarper off to live the life you want. I'm cramping your style, is that it? Don't want to share the stars with anyone except your precious Jack, eh? Well FINE, no need to worry about me anymore," she snarled, snatching up her beaten-in leather coat from her bed and pulling it on with more force than was necessary. "I'll take myself home, no chaperone needed."

"But you don't remember where home is," he responded, confused.

"Then I'll go to the next town," she snapped. "Just so long as I'm out of your hair, it doesn't matter, does it? See you in hell, John," and with that she stormed to the door and was gone with a slam.

For a moment Hart merely stood there, blinking dumbly at the door, stunned as if she had slapped him. Surely she was just bluffing, right? Give her twenty minutes, half an hour tops, she'd come back in, a black rain cloud over her head but with a small spark of forgiveness shielded from the storm.

"She'll come back," Hart murmured to himself, pacing away from the door after casting it a final look, then let a fleeting grin pass his face. "They always come back."

* * *

"Damn it, Mia, this is not the time for originality," he growled, jamming the button for the clock on his vortex manipulator. An hour had passed since she had walked out, and for the billionth time he cursed himself for not following her or even holding her back so she wouldn't stay. That, and how to turn off the screaming signal of her wrist watch.

"Please, love, just talk to me, you're driving me mad," he whispered fiercely to his wrist, resisting the urge to punch a hole in the wall. Sod it, he couldn't sit around anymore. Snatching up his sword from under his bed he attached it to his belt, and in a blur of mottled crimson was out the door.

* * *

God save any man who might have gotten in Captain John Hart's way as he stormed down the sidewalk like a man out for blood. Every five seconds for three mintues solid he tried the 'message machine trick', fiercely hissing condescending comments to Mia. He knew he would regret saying them later, but now... now he just needed to find her safe.

"Mia Jones, you'd better have a damn good reason for not answering me," he growled, shooting dark looks at the people he passed that couldn't see him. Three seconds later he tried again: "Mia, answer NOW or else--"

"John, is that you?"

"Jesus Christ, Mia, where the hell are you?" he demanded as Mia's voice crackled through his vortex manipulator.

"I-I don't know," she replied, her voice shaking despite her obvious attempt at hiding it. "Apparently both of us lose. Those damn fools must have one hell of a thing for me."

"What are you talking about, Mia?"

"The bastards got me again," she scoffed incredulously, and Hart couldn't help but give a weak laugh at her cheekiness in the face of danger.

"Well quick, turn your signal back on so I can find you again before they come back for you," he ordered in a rush. She chuckled again.

"Oh, silly, silly Captain," she sighed as she turned her tracker back on with a beep, "I got the loner who came after me." He could almost hear her grin. "You'd be so proud of me, I nailed him with the scissors."

"The scissors?" he laughed in disbelief, his heart near swelling in his chest as he turned abruptly towards the warehouse he had first found her in, hardly able to suppress his pride.

"Yes, the scissors," she giggled. "And you know where I got him? Right in the-- oh no you do not, you see what I did to your friend there? I will do that to you in a heartbeat if you lay hand on me," she snarled over the intercom, and immediately Hart's pulse kicked up.

"Mia, what the hell is going on?" he demanded, starting to run down the street in her direction now.

"No! You let me go, let go of me right now! John, get your ass over here a-sap! If you don't show up here in five seconds I'm gonna kill you myself! No, don't you dare touch that! Let GO, you son of a --"

"Mia!" he roared as she was cut off. It sounded as if her attacker had ripped her watch off and hurled it at the nearest wall, but he was unsuccessful in destroying it entirely. The intercom was left on.

"No! Don't you touch me! Get your goddamn hands off of me --" snarled Mia's now distant voice, cut off by a painfully loud smack. Like a match to spilt gasoline rage ignited through Hart's veins, taunting his legs to carry him farther and faster to make her attacker suffer.

"No! Let go of me, you worthless spawn of rats, let GO--"

"SHUT UP!" her attacker roared with a nauseatingly loud slap, and Hart snarled when he did not hear Mia retaliate. There would be hell to pay.

* * *

Her head felt like countless swarms of seriously pissed off bees were thrumming and ricocheting off the inside of her skull as Mia lay on the floor, trapped between awareness and unconciousness.

I must have a concussion by now, she thought to herself, keeping her eyes shut so as to not give herself away and to keep the room from possibly spinning like a top. Damn you, John, you were supposed to chase after me and keep me from doing something stupid, not let me get caught again. Fool.

After listening for a few moments to make sure no one was merely lurking in a corner Mia cracked open one eye, then the other, before slowly pushing herself up to a sitting position. As her head indeed started to spin she placed a hand to her temple in a vain attempt to quell the discomfort she felt a dampness at her fingertips, and pulling them away to investigate made a face as she saw them come up crimson. Knowing she could do nothing to clean it up now she started to gingerly pull herself to the wall where her watch lay in shattered bits, propping herself up as she sadly picked up a fragment.

"What's this? Not dead yet?" demanded a gruff male voice with mocking incredulity. Mia cringed, all spit and fire gone.

"Just leave me alone, what the hell do you want from me?" she cried. He cackled, striding over to her and grabbing a fistfull of her hair to tilt her face closer to his.

"Say please," he growled in her face, his rank breath making her gag.

Click.

"Make me," challenged a disembodied voice, terrifyingly level.

From Mia's perspective the man's face went paper-white in about three miliseconds, and although she couldn't see it knew that the muzzle of a gun had been pressed into the back of his skull in a no-nonsense fashion. But who was behind the gun still wasn't registering in her head...

"Up," the voice commanded further, and the man let go of Mia's scalp to let her slide down the wall. From said vantage point she could see a familiar pair of worn leather boots from between her attacker's legs, and as he slowly turned to face HIS oppressor the more of him that was revealed. Old blue jeans, empty leather gun holsters, worn crimson jacket...

"John?" she mumbled weakly, her head reeling as her eyes strayed upon his face, every inch of it etched into the image of rage until he heard her voice.

"Give me a mo', love," Hart replied, softening his tone just for her. "Let's play some Q and A with our new friend here for a bit, then we'll go home, alright? Alright?" he repeated with a snarl to the man, holding his hands up and cowering slightly in response.

"Anything, anything, just don't hurt me!" he pleaded, looking away from Hart's burning eyes.

"Don't hurt you? Don't hurt you? My ears have gone mad, cos I could have sworn you just asked me to not hurt you. To not hurt you, after I see you with her hair in your fist, blood dripping from her brow, broken on the floor? Like hell I won't hurt you," he spat, and without batting an eye pulled the trigger, issuing a crack loud as thunder, and as the man's body slid to the floor Hart was down at her side, shielding her from the sight of him.

"It's okay, it's alright, don't look at him, he's not there," Hart told her, tucking her head into his shoulder to block her sights of the mess he had no choice but to make. Tears did not splash down any cheeks; the shock was still the stronger contender. Mia was now in a sheer daze, her mind stunned as Hart gradually pulled her to her feet, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders and leading her from the room. She felt herself spiraling, her thoughts and sight twindling to tunnel vision, picking up only the scarce basics.

An unfamiliar man crossed their paths. He fell to the ground as Hart's grip on her tensed.

Again.

And again.

And again.

They came to a door which Hart pushed open after briefly focusing upon his wristcomm, and blinded by the sunlight Mia staggered, gripping his blood-red sleeve as if it were a life line. Despite her weak protests he scooped her up into his arms, and as her head rolled against his shoulder the scuffling of his footsteps wildly and randomly reminded her of some faraway drumbeat from her bygone past, and as her sight faded to black the lines ran through her head.

_Hold me down, sweet and low little girl  
Hold me down, sweet and low and I will carry you home  
Hold me down sweet and low little girl  
Hold me down_

_And I'll carry you all the way  
When you say you're fine  
But you're still young and out of line  
When all I need is to turn around  
To make it last, to make it count  
You go and make the same mistakes  
That put my mama in her grave  
I don't want to be alone_


End file.
